Ashes To Ashes
by oOoIZZYoOo
Summary: Hillwood has been hit by a horrible illness, the only hope of escape is to reach the towering brick wall that cuts them off from the rest of the world. But can they each survive without being turned themselves?
1. We All Fall Down

ASHES TO ASHES

**Chapter One**

We All Fall Down

It happened on a Sunday morning.

Not that I remember much- …not that anyone remembers much.

It started with an explosion. For months they had been building that plant. Everyone said it was unsafe. Everyone was right.

The debris went everywhere. Dead bodies littered the streets, mangled and burnt beyond recondition. We mourned for them- and we thought it was over. We buried the bodies and we said the prayers. We did everything right- everything that a normal person would do. We didn't know.

How could we have known…?

The church bells rang, warning us of the ever impending doom that loomed over our little city. But we were far too busy to notice it. Our everyday lives seemed so much more important than what was actually going on. It was only a few at first- a few that stopped coming to work- a few that started feeling ill- a few that started to reek of decay.

It was only a few…that were marked with bright yellow eyes.

It wasn't what you'd expect, this illness, it wasn't at all like the movies portrayed it to be. It didn't happen overnight, the dead didn't rise from their graves, there was no explanation, there was no solution, and there was no sign that it was anything more than a passing flu.

There was no sign…there was no sign until it was far too late to recognize it.

We still don't know how it's passed, saliva is one factor. You never let one get close. You never let one bite you. That's the first rule. You've always keep your wounds covered- that's the second. Their blood is everywhere- their blood is infected, and if it enters your own bloodstream- you too will become one of them.

Few of us remember a world that wasn't this. The elder of us still recall ringing school bells, laughing families- there are not many of us left.

In retrospect we should have known something was wrong- that something wasn't quite right. We should have noticed the way that the sick stared blankly up at the sky, no thoughts in their head, their bright yellow eyes blank and unforgiving. We should have noticed that though they bled they did not cry, we should have shuttered in fear at how they walked down the street, gushing out blood until they collapsed, dead, with no emotion or feeling.

It started with few- and then it became many…

And the more there were, the more violent they in turn became.

The problem started with the riots…the way that the ill had burnt the homes and schools of others, no reason or rhyme behind their anger. They tore into the bodies of the living with their teeth, glorified in the rush the victim's cries made their dead senses feel. They wanted more- they wanted us.

Adults didn't survive long here. They thought too logically and had been trained too tightly. There was no way that they could even fathom killing another human being, to leave someone in need of help behind. They needed answers, they needed to understand. And while they researched the who and the why-

We were surviving.

We were young, and we learned. We ignored the pain and continued on, we left the rotting corpses of our previous families in our homes, and we ran. We set up inner systems, and barricaded ourselves with weapons and fighters. The weak fell- and the strong…

Well…we lived to see another day.

We were children when it started, but now- we are the oldest in the town. At the age of eighteen, we are the ones that the children look upon for help- we are the only adults, the only ones to make this town anew. The outside has closed us off from the rest of the world. A long brick wall, too tall for the yellow eyes to climb- and too far for any survivors to reach, looms on the outside of our city, forever watching with intolerant eyes.

There is no help.

There is no future.

There is only now- only to live, only to survive…even if it's just for one more day.

Almost none of us could survive alone- we've all realized that- mostly through trial and error. The weak but logical clung onto the strong but naïve, and in turn they used one another's strength's to survive. Groups usually consisted of three people, enough to hold off a heard of yellow eyes, but small enough to not require a large amount of food and water.

Shelters weren't too hard to come by, the yellow eyes were not as terribly smart as they were strong, and a good fortress could hold you for months before you would need repairs. If you stayed inside, you would endure-

At least for a while…

But then the water would run low, the food you had managed to salvage from the grocery store across town would eventually deteriorate into crumbs, and you would be left with nothing. That is when your survival would be put to the test.

There were many ways you could get water and food, all of them equally as dangerous. The only potent water supply left in town was from untouched water bottles or a river on the outskirts of Hillwood. Though lacking in cleanliness the river was easier to get to, and always running. Although it was less of a travel however the forest could be hard to navigate, and the longer you stayed out of the shelter, the shorter your chances of staying alive became.

The pure water was of course more sought after; river water was often used to bathe, and always had the risk of contamination. One pure water bottle could buy you food for a week- if you could get to it. The local grocery and shopping centers had been emptied out years ago, the only ones left being those that sat in the middle of town- the height of the infestation.

Many greedy men, hoping to get an untouched pack has died or been turned in the attempt.

Fresh food on the other hand, although a rarity, was not completely inaccessible. Some groups, outfitted with the resources and brains, had managed to convert old greenhouses or buildings into internal farms. Food was often bought with trade of water, or other commodities that the survivors could barter with. After careful consideration each had been placed a few miles from each other, just easy enough to be accessed by survivors, but far enough apart that if the yellow eyes should attack one the other farms would have time to guard their remaining stock.

Out of it all, the hardest part of living in this world is not knowing- not knowing what has happened to your friends or your family…to not know if right now someone you care about is being turned or attacked. Even a mile journey can be deadly, and so, we stay inside, merely praying for good news.

We have runners, trained, and brave, to bring word from each shelter to the next. Little comfort can be given by words on a paper, but seeing a friendly signature somehow still manages to bring me unimaginable joy and sorrow.

And though I know that I cannot see them just yet…I hope that they will be able to reach our haven soon…

For although I can kill without a second glance- I still cry in my bed, hoping to see my best friends smiling face looking up at me once more. I cry for the years I have missed, and the childhood I once had. I cry for the tattered remains of my old self I hold onto, I cry for the blonde haired boy sleeping beside me, and all of the things that he's had to endure.

I cry because I cry.

I cry because it is forbidden.

I cry because it is what keeps me human…it is what keeps me from becoming a yellow eye…

And that is how I survive.


	2. Living

Chapter Two

Arnold

Living

"Arnold…Arnold come on wake up…it's morning."

"_Arnold! COME ON!" Helga screamed grabbing onto Arnold's hand as she dragged him out of the burning classroom. She coughed, hiding her face in her dress as she pulled as hard as she could. Arnold fought against her grip, jumping back towards the classroom as the beams fell down in front of the door, trapping the rest inside. _

"_B-but they're still in there! W-we have t-" Arnold gasped as Helga slammed her hand across his face. She breathed heavily, her small chest heaving with fear, but her eyes were strong. She grabbed onto his shoulders, shaking him as she dug her fingernails into his skin._

"_If we're going to live we're going to have to stick together. We can't save them. Take a deep breath, and move on." Helga stated angrily. Arnold blinked for a moment, tears brimming in his eyes as he looked back at the burning school, the sound of screams and cries for help finally dying down into the distance. The yellow eyes paraded into the gymnasium, completely ignorant of their burning flesh as they searched hungrily for something to tear. _

"_Arnold…" Helga grabbed onto his cheeks, forcing him to look at her as she sobbed, obviously in just as much pain as he was. _

"_We've got to go…" She whimpered, pulling at his hand harder. Arnold swallowed hard, the reality of the situation brimming onto him as the yellow eyes threw out the still sizzling corpses of some of the students onto the dark street. _

_Arnold gasped in fear as one of their hungry eyes set upon the two of them. Helga screamed out in anger, slamming her bare hand into the glass of the emergency box. _

_Bloodied and shaking she took the ax out and held it in front of her, humming low growls under her breath._

"_St-…STAY AWAY!" She screamed painfully. _

"…sweet boy…wake up…" The voice whispered again. Arnold slowly blinked his eyes open, staring at the glass ceiling above him.

The sky was deceptive. Beautiful and blue it stretched out across the span of his roof, feeding the room with pure light and beauty. The birds chirped happily above the clouds, diving and dipping with ecstasy and flutter as the day rose a new. The sun beamed down happily, emitting its rays down upon them with a sliver of hope and happiness.

And when all you could see was the sky…the world was perfect again.

Arnold hissed, covering his eyes from the bright morning as he turned over in the bed, pulling the ripped covers over his head. It was far too early to return to that world of madness. For just a few more moments he wanted everything to be a dream, for all of this to just be a far away nightmare in the comforting world of sleep.

Helga smiled gently, crawling over the bed as she pulled the corner of his 'habitat' away, softly pressing her lips against his cheek as he moaned in refusal. With a soft massage of his shoulder she tugged him up and out of the covers.

"Come on…there's work to do." She whispered, sliding her shirt over her head as she got up for the day. Arnold sighed, nodding to her as he forced himself up and out of the worn bed they slept atop. Arnold grabbed onto the clothes that laid on the floor, throwing them over his naked chest. Helga watched out of the corner of her eye, trying not to stare at the long scar that ran across his stomach. She quickly went back to grabbing her own clothes for the morning as he shook, trying to regain his composure.

Helga suddenly gasped as the shaking boy grabbed onto her hand, clamping onto it for dear life as he closed his eyes, taking in the bright sunlight above them.

"Just one more minute…one more minute of peace?" Arnold whispered, pleading with the girl to make it all better, to make it alright- to make the things he'd seen and the actions he's done go away. Helga smiled sadly, leaning forward and kissing his forehead.

"Silly boy…there isn't a minute to be had…" She said in a hushed tone. Arnold leaned his head against her chest as she hugged him to her, slowly moving her fingers through his hair as he flinched, holding onto her tighter.

The days never got easier….but waking up to such a beautiful morning only made it all the worse. For once in his life he found himself wishing for gray and gloomy skies. Helga massaged his scalp, humming a soft lullaby as he fought back tears.

Nearly every morning was like this…

Arnold would wake, stiff and scared from the nightmares the plagued his mind- and she would hold him, hoping that the small amount of comfort she could offer would make it seem like a better world. Sometimes it would work- sometimes he would look up from her embrace with that sad and small smile, and sometimes- well sometimes…

He wouldn't.

"Where's Arnold at?" A soft voice called out from the kitchen as Helga walked down the stairs. Helga sighed, running her long and calloused fingers through the blonde tuffs before pushing it up into a high ponytail. She moved beside the blonde speaker, helping sort through some of the harvested fruits and vegetables from their greenhouse.

"He's getting dressed…" Helga whispered. The boy beside her scoffed, cutting up a head of lettuce as he placed it into a rather large bowl, she assumed this was their breakfast. Salads were never very filling, but lettuce grew quickly, and wilted even faster. Helga grabbed onto a tomato, slicing without too much thought.

"He's taking an awful long time…" He mumbled, casting Helga a glance. She was wearing simple garb, it was very hard to come across clothing out here, let alone something that fit. For her day to day she had a pair of baggy pink pants and a white tank top. Though it was easy enough to move in it clearly showed the scars along her arms and shoulders, the way that they seemed to climb along her body and down her back, the symbols of forgotten nightmares burned into reality.

She used to hate them. She would wear a heavy sweater even on the hottest of days, she hated who these scars had made her become. As the years passed and the wounds increased she became more indifferent. They were marks of a warrior- they were marks of pride.

"Give him a break today Arnie…some mornings are harder than others. You of all people should know that." Helga whispered placing the cut tomatoes into the bowl. Arnie rolled his eyes, taking off his over shirt as the temperature started to rise.

Arnie had been visiting his grandparents when 'the sunrise' hit. Everything had happened so quickly that there was no way for him to get home, no way for him to make his way out of the hellhole before it completely engulfed the town. Despite being a rather awkward child he had proven himself useful in battle and defensive techniques.

Which was good, for even though she loved the man with all of her heart Arnold was no fighter, and to have survived this long, they would need someone else as skilled with a weapon as herself. Helga's eyes glazed over, thinking of the earlier years, back when they were just practically babies. Arnie had been the shooter- Helga was the hacker…

She could hardly fathom some of the things they had done, how many they had killed in the name of 'survival'. With her ax and Arnie's shotgun, there was no yellow eye that could stand in their way…that was…until they'd pushed it too far. They got too cocky, they made their way too far into central town, and because of it they were almost killed.

Arnold was there though…he was always there, silently watching, paralyzed by the world around him…but at the first sign that they might actually be in trouble he had dived in, cutting anyone who got near the two. It was the first time he had ever gotten a battle wound…and Helga made sure it was the last.

Life had calmed down since then. Running a greenhouse farm wasn't easy, for the attacks on the house were almost constant. If it wasn't the yellow eyes looking for meat it was the crazies, so dehydrated and starved that they became just as dangerous as the ill that they so desperately ran from. The boarding house provided good defenses, but everyday was still an upward struggle.

"Well he'd better hurry up...people will start coming in soon, we need as many hands as we can get." Arnie mumbled. Helga slammed her knife down into the cutting board, her eyes dangerously close to the edge.

"He'll be down when he's ready…the two of us are fine for now." Helga warned. Arnie held up his hands nonchalantly in surrender. Helga placed the rest of the tomatoes into the bowl; her shoulder's relaxing as she calmed down. Her fingers moving down the knife's blade instinctively as Arnie took the bowl away, moving it towards the hallway- it was easier to watch what was going on from there.

Helga pulled the knife out of the board, twisting it easily in her hands. It had been years since she stepped outside- since she'd used these hands to take a life. After such vicious killing, being a tamed gardener was not something that easily sat well…the crazy was starting to take its effect on her…if she didn't let it out soon-

"New face!" Arnie suddenly screamed out. Helga perked, half in excitement, half in fear. Arnold hurried down the stairs at the news, still buttoning up his plaid shirt as Helga ran out of the kitchen and into the hallway. There was the sound of fist beating on the door as a scared voice came from behind it.

"Hello? Hello- p-please let me in!" A young voice cried out, slamming small fist against the door even harder.

Helga grabbed onto her pistol, throwing Arnie the shotgun that lay in the previous umbrella holder. Skillfully he loaded it, pulling up a mask that sat on chest to now cover his nose and lips. Helga slid her own over her face as Arnie opened the door, slowly and cautiously.

"Oh thank goodness, I saw the red on your door and-" Arnie pulled the newcomer inside. A young boy, around the age of twelve or thirteen, stumbled into the house as Arnie slammed the door behind him. Quickly he bolted it, keeping his trained eye and gun on the young boy.

Red on the door symboled a safe haven, a house that was already boarded with the necessary defenses to keep someone safe from the yellow eyes. There were different signs for different types of shelters of course; their residence for instance had a single flower painted over the door, showing that they would barter food. There were others of course for gun shops, runner's commission stations, and clinics. Should you find yourself lost or chased these symbols could save your life- if they opened the door in time that is.

"What are you?" Arnie spat out quickly, his gun still trained on the young boy's head. He stuttered, looking from Helga to Arnold, pleading for some assistance as he quivered.

"E-excuse me?" he asked.

"What are you?" Arnie asked again. "A runner, scholar, gunner, a scavenger? What?"

The boy blinked, obviously not understanding what Arnie was asking him. Helga sighed, stepping forward as she lowered down her pistol.

"It just helps us figure out what we should expect you to try and barter and what sort of weapons you're probably going to have on you." Helga explained with a shrug of her shoulder.

"So how do you survive? If you've never been here before I'm sure you're not a runner, you're pretty skinny- rough hands but un-toned body- I'm guessing scavenger…is that it?" Helga asked with a raised brow. The boy still looked confused. With a soft growl she rubbed her head, placing the gun down on the desk.

"You pick up random scrap and then try and sell it for food? Right? That's why you've got such a large backpack." Helga said angrily, motioning towards his back. The boy looked at the backpack before slowly nodding, not even sure what he was agreeing to. Arnie raised his shotgun, his eyes slitting.

"Then I'd state your trade or get out, we don't like strangers staying here." He mumbled.

"Really everyone-…there's no need for this…" Arnold whispered holding up his hands as he stepped forward and toward the now shuddering boy. Helga moved in front of Arnold quickly, blocking him from touching the boy as she nudged her head forward.

"You have any weapons on you?" She asked harshly. The boy blinked, shaking his head quickly as he clung onto his jacket in terror.

"N-no…" He whispered, moving his fingers into his pocket. Arnie grabbed onto his wrist, his movements as quick as a flash. The boy yelped out in fear, Arnold flinched, only able to watch as Arnie pinned the small hand up and onto the wall, his head motioning towards the jacket's pocket.

"Helga…" He commanded. Helga nodded, moving forward and rustling through the boy's jean and jacket pockets. When she was satisfied she pulled back, nodding her head toward Arnie to let him go. The boy dropped from his shaking knees to the ground, his eyes wide and shaking with fear.

"I...I'm really sorry about that…we have to take a lot of precautions here…" Arnold whispered caringly stepping forward to him. He bent down onto his knees, holding out a soft hand to help him up. The boy looked up, his fearful gasp turning into a crazed laugh as he slammed his hand out onto Arnold's shirt, pulling him down onto the ground. Slamming his face into the floor he threw him back up, keeping him as a shield as he threw out his small arm around Arnold's throat, choking him as he backed up to the door.

"G-give me everything in your storage!" He demanded harshly, tightening his grip. "G-give it all to me or your friend here gets it!"

Helga and Arnie looked at one another rather calmly- too calmly. The boy fidgeted in fear, keeping his arm tight around Arnold as Helga grabbed a bag off of the floor. She opened up the top, slowly and in view of the young boy. Peeks of fresh fruits and vegetables could be seen inside of it. Carefully she offered it out to him.

"You've got a good eye missy…you knew I was a scavenger just from one look at me-…you should have known better than to give me an opening though." He whispered with a harsh laugh.

"It's a lot easier to items from losers like you than to risk going out there again!" Helga narrowed her eyes, pushing the bag forward.

"Are you going to take it or not…?" She mumbled. The boy looked from the bag to the boy he held hostage, and in a hurried attempt he reached out one arm to grab it from Helga's hands.

Helga grabbed his hand as he reached out, slamming her elbow into his forearm. The sound of his bones crunching underneath her sheer force rang throughout the entire building, as well as the screams from its holder.

"AHHH! Y-you broke my arm! Y-you bitch you broke my arm!" He screamed out. When the pain overwhelmed him and his grip loosened Arnold ducked out from his previously deathly grip. As soon as he was free Helga grabbed onto the broken forearm once more, throwing the boy's small body over her shoulder and onto the floor.

Arnie watched without interest, bending down next to the now unconscious body. He flipped open the boy's backpack, scoffing as he held it up for Helga to see.

"It's empty." He mumbled. "He never intended to come here to barter."

He stood back up, stretching his arms as he looked back at Helga who was now rolling her shoulders back and forth to stretch them out. Arnold breathed heavily, trying to regain his breath as he closed his eyes tightly.

"Really Arnold, you'd think you'd have learned by now." Arnie snapped out, half in anger and half in concern. Arnold looked up, his eyes hurt and sad. Helga pushed back her bangs, a bit of sweat running down her forehead.

"…it's fine…if Arnold hadn't snuffed him out we wouldn't have known his intentions until it was too late…no harm done." Helga whispered picking the boy's body up and off of the floor. Arnie opened up the boarding house door, the two ready to throw him out and onto the street. Arnold gasped, jumping forward and slamming the door before they could get the chance.

"W-what are you two doing? If you throw him out there now the yellow eyes will eat him alive!" Arnold yelled. Arnie narrowed his brows, clenching his teeth as he pulled at the door handle, trying to get it open.

"So…?" Arnold's hands shook, but he kept firm against the door.

"He's hurting, just like the rest of us- he made a mistake, but we can't just throw him out to die…" Arnold whispered. Arnie groaned, slamming his hand against the door before glaring down at the blonde headed optimist.

"Are you an idiot?"

Helga sighed, seeing that she would once again have to be the negotiator between the two. Dropping the body lazily to the ground she stepped between the two fighting boys.

"Arnie, Arnold is a scholar for a reason…if it wasn't for him we wouldn't have any farms or civilization…people like him are around to keep us sane…I know this guys life doesn't mean anything to you, but maybe someday when this is all over you'll look back on it and wish you'd done something different." Helga reasoned. She then turned to Arnold, a much stricter voice now.

"Arnold, Arnie and I are here to keep you safe, you can't fight with us against every little thing or else we're going to stop taking what you say seriously. The world isn't roses and sunshine anymore, it never was, and the sooner you realize you're going to have to start treating it differently the sooner we can find some common ground. Common- SAFE- ground…morals are great my love, but they won't keep you alive."

Arnold and Arnie looked down at the ground, the face of a child being lectured crossing over their adult frames. With a deep breath Helga sighed, pulling a camera out of the backpack with fruits and vegetables. She leaned down, taking a quick picture of the boy that had attacked them. The picture slide out in a matter of moments. With a lazy expression she shook it, waiting until it developed before placing it down onto the desk.

"We'll keep him tied up until he wakes then we'll send him on his way. The next time a runner comes along we'll send them with his picture and warn the other farms not to do business with him. He'll live, but he'll have to do it on his own." Helga whispered heading back into the kitchen.

"Now come on- there's still a lot to do…"


End file.
